The Herlathing
by Winter M
Summary: On the eve of the Wild Hunt, Sarah’s connection to the Underground endangers the life of a friend and she must once again make a deal with the devil and travel into the fantastic world of her childhood before it’s too late…
1. Ruined Spectres of Gallant Huntsmen

**Title:** The Herlathing  
**Rating:** T for now  
**Pairing:** J/S  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own Labyrinth, its characters, the movie-plot, or the other mythos referenced. Don't sue; I have no job and no money.  
**Summary: **On the eve of the Wild Hunt, Sarah's connection to the Underground endangers the life of a friend and she must once again make a deal with the devil and travel into the fantastic world of her childhood before it's too late...

**Chapter One:** Ruined Spectres of Gallant Huntsmen

"Sarah, you're going to be late," Imogen Smith called through her roommate's bedroom door.

Inside, arms and legs askew, Sarah twitched. The harsh reverberating knock that followed the voice brought forth a groan and she rolled over reluctantly. The digital face of her clock backed up the claim. She jolted awake, tumbling from the bed and stumbling to her closet.

"Shoot."

"Sarah?"

"I'm up, could you just—coffee!" she tripped over a pile of clothes needing to be washed and landed sharply against the closet. Sarah tugged the door open and grabbed jeans and a sweater, turning and rushing out of the bedroom and into the washroom.

Imogen listened to the banging and clattering with something close to mild amusement as she fiddled with mugs and the coffee maker. Crisping bread smoked in the toaster, a badly closed jar of jam rested on the counter, and runny nonfat milk waited to cancel the black coffee's inevitable acidity.

She wasn't what you would call a superstitious person by any means. More steady and level headed and labeled a boor by their party-happy friends. But even so, her roommate's erratic behavior of late almost did begin to make her believe in some unseen mystical force.

"Maybe it's the full moon," she mused blandly.

Sarah breezed into the kitchen with damp hair but dressed neatly. She stopped bang in front of the coffee, pouring a big cup and ladling in sugar and milk, "Mmmmm," she all but inhaled the scalding liquid before turning a smile on Imogen, "Thanks."

"To—"

"Toast!" the brunette grabbed the offered jam smothered breakfast and headed for the door.

"You're a life-saver Gen, seriously, I'll make this up."

"Just get out of here."

Mouth full, she turned back at the door, "Seriously, Ben and Jerry's all around tonight yeah?"

Imogen waved her out, "Get."

"See you later!" the apartment door slammed shut behind her.

Imogen shook her head and turned to fix her own cup of java. When she turned back to the small living room she paused, noticing the canvas messenger bag shoved in the nook between an umbrella vase and the false fireplace. She grimaced and abandoned her cup, grabbing the back up and pursing her absent minded roommate.

Outside, the world law wreathed in a heavy layer of early morning fog, fitting for early November. The chill temperature cut through Sarah's light denim jacket and raised goose bumps all along her arms and neck. She wrapped her arms more closely around her body and picked up speed as she hit the sidewalk.

She had been fortunate to meet Imogen during a summer stock theatre class where the two young women had almost instantly hit it off. When fall quarter came around and Sarah started seeking more permanent residence, the Englishwoman had happily offered the spare room in her tiny London flat situated a circuitous eight blocks away from University. Together they had worked through August and September to renovate the space and turn it into a cheery literary dream full of built in book cases, a pristine espresso maker and a half dozen potted herb plants.

Now Sarah hurried to make her first final of the quarter, desperately wishing she could have afforded a car along with tuition. But on her small salary working in the University Bookstore along with what little her parent's could afford to send her halfway across the world didn't leave a whole lot for trivial conveniences.

A red light stopped her at the corner and she jittered impatiently, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. A sharp biting wind picked up, scattering dry leaves and loose sheaf paper across the road. The trash rustled almost musically. Sarah worked furtively to push her long brunette hair back behind her ear but it tangled and nearly blinded her.

To her left a car horn blared and was followed by a rending crash. Sirens wailed unexpectedly in the distance. Someone began shouting indistinctly into the increasing gale.

Above the noise Sarah swore she could hear her heart thudding in her ribcage and indistinctly, like someone whispering in the next room she thought she heard something like a trumpet sounding musically. The barest line of a melody she almost recognized scratched at the edge of her awareness.

Around her the fog thickened and a dread chill shot down Sarah's spine.

"What the hell?"

"Sarah!"

She spun at the voice, across the street and a hundred feet back, Imogen waved, red hair tossed awry by the chaotic wind. She held up what Sarah recognized as her backpack laughingly. Something in Sarah's gut turned cold.

"This isn't right," mumbled.

Again she heard the horn sounding, but closer, through the fog. Something scratched against cobbled streets and she swore she heard dogs howling at her elbow. People argued in the street, but their voices grew distant, distorted, as though she was listening to them through water.

She clawed at her hair and darted glances back and forth up the street. Something tugged at the cold lump traveling up to her throat. She felt dizzy and a great crash rent the air near her head. almost immediately she felt bitingly cold and then warm, living warmth that gusted as moist breath on the back of her neck and the baying dogs—it was definitely dogs, or maybe hounds—grew cacophonous.

"Sarah!"

Imogen's scream brought the brunette's attention back to the road where her friend had darted out around where the wreck had stopped traffic. Sarah blinked, unbelieving, the world around her had disappeared in the thick fog; she could hardly see six feet in front of her, barely to where Imogen stood frozen. The red head's eyes stared wide as saucers and filled with fright, her mouth dropping open in shock.

"Gen?" Sarah called back uncertainly. Her skin crawled and she knew instinctively something was wrong behind her. She couldn't bring herself to look. There was no response to her call. Imogen seemed to speak but sounds never left her throat as she vanished in the swirling wind.

"Gen!?"

Sound rushed back to her, the baying hounds and clattering hooves and suddenly she was surrounded by spectral figures mounted on horseback. The creature behind her moved around and into view, towering above her.

She blinked into the fog and shivered. A grey bearded man perched atop a large brown horse, rippling with muscle. As she looked, he appeared clothed in fine brocades and a flowing fur trimmed cloak. A bow and quiver slung across his back, the gleaming hilt of a wicked sword at his side and a sleek grey hunting hound rested across his thighs.

He dipped his head regally, "Good tidings to you lady."

"Who—who," she couldn't seem to make her mouth move. Her mind turned over and ground to a halt. It was too much. She had left this all behind. It couldn't be real.

He smiled, but it was the kind of smile trapped between jovial and sad, "King of Nowhere and forgotten past. Would the pretty Lady wish us a happy hunt?"

"Hunt?"

"The Herlathing awaits," he swept his arm expansively to encompass the ghostly half image of fellow mounted men and pack of dogs.

Forcing herself to form coherent fragments, Sarah swallowed and blurted, "Of course, happy hunt."

The King nodded his head and wheeled his horse away.

"Wait! What about my friend?" but they couldn't hear her, they were already disappeared like the wind and the fog. Sirens broke into Sarah's head and suddenly the world came rushing back to her. She felt dizzy and sat abruptly, her feet in the street.

An ambulance wailed up and slammed to a stop across the street. People argued and car horns honked as traffic tried to channel around the accident. A pale, sickly sun burned in the upper cloud cover.

Her tests forgotten, Sarah stared unblinkingly at the spot that had swallowed her friend whole…

TBC

A/N: Comments, questions? This is my first attempt at fanfiction in about three years and probably four years since I've written anything in the Labyrinth fandom. I'm not sure what current trends in Labyrinth fandom are so bear with me. Reviews are lovely :) More to come, though it might be slow so stay tuned.


	2. A Way Back

Disclaimer: Don't own it

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Chapter Two: A Way Back

Sarah felt her head spinning, unable to process what had just happened. In a daze she wandered back down the road to the apartment. Like a zombie she trudged up the steps to the door which she found unlocked. Stepping inside felt unreal; the safe, cozy atmosphere laid untouched but everything inn Sarah's mind revolted.

"Herlathing," she whispered to herself, not liking the sound of the word. Slowly she came back to herself as the minutes ticked past, shaking off the sense of unreality. She clenched her jaw and started moving, her mind spinning.

"Herlathing, what the hell is that?"

One large, leather bound book stuck out on the bookshelves in the living room. It was a childish Encyclopedia or Fairies and Fairy realms, bought on sale at a big name bookstore. Still, it seemed the most readily available source of information to her frazzled nerves, even if the author believed no more in the material than an atheist did in god.

Almost dreading the answers she might find, Sarah flipped back through the index, searching for the mysterious word.

"Habundia; Hag; Heinzelmännchen; Herla, see Wild Hunt," she paused, "Wild Hunt?" the words of the King came back to her and she quickly flipped to the back of the index, "Wild Hunt, page 233," she flipped forward, her eyes casting down the brightly illustrated page.

The two page spread featured watercolor pictures of noblemen on horseback and a spiraling pack of hounds around their feet. The men were dressed in fine, rich clothing and each was adorned by a long trailing beard.

Her eyes skimmed the text accompanying the pictures. The simplistic tale related three different variations on the same theme: men of a fantastical nature racing through the English countryside, hunting lost souls, the dead or the misfortunate.

Her heart almost stopped as she read, "Sometimes, if a person encounters the Wild Hunt in progress, they may be swept up into the tableau and become, themselves, the hunted. To prevent just such a thing happening, villagers often instructed their maiden daughters to hide their faces when the hounds of the Wild Hunt were heard."

Feeling a little defeated, Sarah pulled the heavy book closed. She leaned her back against the couch where she'd collapsed on the living room floor, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her thoughts were in a flurry, turning over what she'd read. Suddenly she frowned,

"Why wasn't I taken?"

Sarah scrambled up, casting about for another book that might have more detailed information.

"Oh, what's the use, it's not as if any of these authors believe in any of this anyways," she turned from the bookcase with a small sigh of disgust. Her eyes searched the cluttered shelves, touching on titles like _Peter Pan_, _The Fairie Queen _and Brian Froud's _Goblins of the Labyrinth_.

She froze, eyes darting between the book title and a circular sun mirror on the opposite wall. An idea blossomed in her mind and she rushed to the mirror, jerking it off the wall and taking a seat back on the couch. Her stomach turned over nervously, knotting, worrying that this wouldn't work.

"Only one way to find out," Sarah squared her shoulders and faced the mirror, "H…Hoggle? Can you hear me? I need you Hoggle, I need you." She waited, her heart beating furiously. It hadn't worked. For an instant she had been so certain it would work. They had promised to be there if she needed them and now, with Imogen's disappearance and probable involvement in the Wild Hunt, she desperately needed a little fairy assistance.

Desperately she shook the mirror and called beseechingly, "Hoggle? Sir Diddymus? Please, I really need your help. Can anyone hear me?" frustration welled up inside her and Sarah started to lower the mirror from her lap when a vague, distorted image swam into focus.

"My lady?" a voice rose innocently from the glass.

"Sir Diddymus?" Sarah called back, "Sir Diddymus is that really you?" she peered into the cracked and crenulated surface of the mirror, trying to make out the image of her old friend. She couldn't be certain, but even with the poor image quality he looked greyer than she remembered, a little more worn around the edges, his mustachios a little droopier.

"My lady!" he bowed low, "it has been so long, I admit I had almost quite given up hope of ever speaking with you again."

Sarah felt a pang of guilt, she really had no idea what the time difference might be between her world and the Underground. To her, a half dozen years had passed but as she gazed at the aged visage of the terrier she began to suspect it had been a great deal longer for him.

"I'm so sorry Sir Diddymus, I can't really explain, but I need your help. Someone's help. You see I've got this friend—"

"Wished away?" the knight's image crackled and flickered, like a bad antenna signal on the TV.

"No, nothing like that. Well, maybe like that, I'm not really sure exactly, that's part of the reason why I called."

"My lady? Are you still there?" the interference in the mirror's image got worse, flickering in and out and Sarah had a hard time distinguishing Sir Diddymus's words.

"Sir Diddymus? I need a way back into the Underground. I have to find my friend and I think she might have been transported there, somewhere. Sir Diddymus?" she felt a little frantic, calling into the mirror but to no avail.

"My la—" the shiny surface went dark and then snapped back to normal, revealing nothing more exciting than Sarah's own haggard expression.

"Nooo," she moaned, shaking the mirror. Wilting, she set the mirror back down on the floor and slid off the couch. She rubbed at the headache forming between her eyes and pounded a fist against her thigh, "It's not fair." The minute the words left her mouth she cringed, darting a glance at the dark mirror but it remained impassive.

"Okay, think Sarah, what other options are there? There has to be another way to get into the Underground. You've just got to think," she looked around the room, from the discarded encyclopedia to the mirror to the array of books and candles and plants arrayed on the bookshelves. Again, her eye caught the illustrated book of Goblins and her mind turned over with a sickening crunch.

Him, _He_ could get her back into the Underground.

Sarah felt her stomach tie up in knots at the very thought, the merest suggestion. For months after her trip through the Labyrinth her mind had been full of him, Jareth, King of the Goblins. He had haunted her dreams. Every night she couldn't help but hear that voice, its melody, following her, taunting her. And by day she had caught her eye wandering through crowds, focusing on tall blond heads, looking for him. She had felt his presence over her shoulder.

Now, staring dejectedly at the book, she couldn't think of any other way. But oh how she wished there was.

Swallowing thickly, Sarah scrambled up and stood rigidly, her voice nevertheless strong and unyielding as she gathered her courage around her like a shield, "I wish I could speak with the Goblin King."

Nothing happened.

"Right now?"

The air crackled and came to life. Wind swirled through the house, upsetting papers and tipping over knickknacks. A loud banging thundered against the door. Sarah's heart leapt up into her throat and suddenly the front door blew open. A white owl flew into the room, spiraling around her head.

With a flash he was there again, standing before her in all his finery, just as she remembered. That same wicked mouth turned up in a snaggle toothed sneer of a smile, mismatched eyes glittering palely in the early morning daylight. She had a momentary sensation of unreality, viewing him like this, in a swath of sunlight, but when he spoke it was exactly the same.

"My my, what could you possibly want now?"

She opened her mouth to answer but froze. _I really should have thought this one through first._

TBC


	3. Making Deals

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue.

Chapter Three: Making Deals

A hard knot formed in Sarah's throat and she worked desperately not to try to swallow it down; it wouldn't do to show him how startling his actual presence was to her. She could feel her hands shaking as she peered into that cold, impassive face. Seconds ticked by on the rustic clock on the wall, she could hear the long hand moving above her head.

"Goblin King."

The narrow smile twisted like a snake, his voice though was as smooth and polite as she remembered, "Sarah."

She couldn't seem to think of what to say next. It hadn't seemed like a particularly brilliant idea at the time but it had seemed like the only option. Now that she stood facing him though, the man of her nightmares—dreams—she didn't know what to do next. All these years, she knew she'd grown up, she wasn't a little girl anymore, she was an adult but he was still a daunting figure.

He placed black gloved hands on his hips and stared at her intently, "Sarah, don't tell me you brought me here on a mere whim, in the…heat of the moment."

His words were more than just words, she felt entranced by that English accent wrapped up in silk. They floated through her head, awaking all the old butterflies in her stomach. She didn't know what to do, she—

Snapped out of it with a jolt, coming back to herself in an instant. The butterflies still knotted up in her stomach but the floaty feeling disappeared as she recognized the enchantment, it was the same sort of tricks he'd tried to play on before, distracting her with shiny baubles.

"Focus," she whispered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she snapped, looking him square in the eye. Meeting him head on, she felt the fog in her brain clearing. He wasn't anything to worry or be intimidated by, she had defeated him before, she had the power; this was _her_ side of the world, her apartment, her wish. And damnit, her friend needed her.

"I need to go back to the Underground."

His smirk became almost carnivorous, "Well, why didn't you say so. You know how to get there, all it takes is a little wish."

Sarah waved a dismissive hand in his face, "No, not like that. Something's happened; a friend of mine has been taken…"

"Wished away another have we?"

"No! Won't you just stand there and listen for a minute?" Sarah felt a little surprised at her own tone and she could tell from his eyes, so was the Goblin King. She turned away and started pacing the small space from couch to window,

"I'm not really sure what's going on but I think somehow my friend Imogen has gotten caught up in something called the, uh," she grabbed the encyclopedia off the chow table and handed the it to the Goblin King, "the 'wild hunt.' I was going to class and she was running to catch up with me and suddenly there was fog and these hounds and this man who called himself the, uh, King of Nothing? Or was it Nowhere?"

She felt a little uncertain, pausing, mind churning. She glanced back at Jareth. He stood, holding the children's book with disdain, eyes running down the colorful page with vague disinterest. He must have felt her gaze because he glanced up.

"And what could this possibly have to do with me?"

"I have got go back to the Underground and find my friend. And…well, I don't know any other way to get there."

"So you call on me. You really think I'd help you out of what…what Sarah? The goodness of my heart," this time it was definitely a sneer.

Sarah froze, she hadn't considered what she'd do if he refused.

He snorted in elegantly and tossed the book back on the table, careless of where it fell. She jumped at the clatter and frowned.

"No, I don't suppose you thought of that, did you."

"Can't we, make a deal or something?"

"You have nothing of interest you could offer me. So, frankly, no," Jareth straightened his cloak, making to leave. "I thought you had learned a few valuable lessons the last time we met," he raked his eyes down her body, "you've certainly grown up in other ways, but I see that I was wrong. Goodbye Sarah."

"Wait! Wait, I…I wish that the Goblin King would do as I ask and take me to the Underground so that I can find my friend…oh, right now!"

Everything about the Jareth froze, his eyes narrowed on her face with outrage. He stretched out a hand, his fingers curling in rage. A crystal materialized in his palm, sparkling in the morning light; he pulled back his arm, mouth pinched into a thin line,

"You always had to be so difficult didn't you?"

He hurled the crystal at her. Sarah flinched, reaching out almost automatically to catch the child's toy but it burst before it touched her fingertips and suddenly the whole world went dark.

Years, decades really, had passed in the Underground since Sarah had been there last. When she had left, she'd left the ruins in even greater ruin. She remembered that final showdown against the Goblin King: shattered walls and floating masonry. Now she stared out at the same dry brown landscape. In the distance the walls of the Labyrinth sprouted from the dusty earth and everywhere she looked she saw decay.

As her eyes searched the desolate landscape she could Jareth step up close behind her. When he spoke, cool breath tickled her ear.

"There, happy now?""

"Ho does this help me find my friend? She'd not actually in the Labyrinth is she?"

Sarah looked back at him over her shoulder, watched his eyes slide off her forehead, past her to his sprawling kingdom.

"No."

"She's caught up in the Wild Hunt, so take me _there_."

"I can't do that."

Frustration welled up in her temple like a headache, "What," she sneered, "something you, the mighty Goblin King, can't do?" desperation gave her a surge of bravery.

Jareth brushed her aside and moved away, "The Hunt moves around. No one knows where it may be at any one time. Take your little encounter, the fact that Herla was able to wander back into the Aboveground at all is somewhat puzzling."

"There has to be something you can do, somewhere you can take me."

He spun around, pinning her with his eyes like a butterfly under a collector's pin, "You always did demand so much from me, and yet you have yet to offer anything of value in return."

"Can't you just tell me if—"

"No!" Jareth's face set in a hard plain. He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to the top of the rise overlooking the Labyrinth, "Look at that, look at what you left me."

Sarah felt her heart take up a sharp staccato. She lied a little, "It looks the same. Maybe a little more worn around the edges but…"

"It's empty, dead, everything that lived there has moved on. That's what you left me. You careened through my Labyrinth, smashing whatever got in your way until now there's nothing left. Not even your precious companions."

"What did you—"

"I did nothing," he cut her off sharply, "I didn't need to."

"I'm sorry," she almost whispered, feeling a little cowed, "if I could fix it I would."

"It's too late for that."

She turned to him, "Then I'll owe you one or something. Please, take me somewhere I can look for my friend. I know there must be something you can do and…" her stomach knotted at the very idea, but between the lengthening shadows cast by the orange sun above her head and the Goblin King's empty profile, she felt her options dwindling, "I'll owe you one."

"One what?"

"A favor."

"Of my choosing?"

She swallowed hard, "Yeah, anything within reason."

"You offer pathetic bargains," he turned a cold gaze on her, "but I accept. I'll take you one place; perhaps if you are lucky you'll find some answers. But remember," he pointed a sharp gloved finger at her, "you're not my responsibility. Once we're there, except for this favor, I wash my hands of you, understood?"

Sarah nodded mutely.

Jareth spun away and pulled a crystal out of thin air, "Brace yourself. I've been told this is a rather unpleasant journey for," he smiled softly to himself, "mere mortals."

A gust of wind whipped sand and grit into Sarah's eyes, lashing her long dark hair against her face. She threw her hands up to shield herself and felt the earth tumbling beneath her feet. It seemed like the day's unreality would never cease.

When the wind died, she cautiously opened her eyes into bright unnatural yellow sunlight and a hundred gaping faces that still managed to pull off looking haughty. She opened her mouth to ask the Goblin King where he'd taken her this time when her stomach revolted and the day got, quite possibly, even worse.

TBC

A/N: I'm sorry if things are moving too slowly. I have a tendency to let things drag out and run away from me. More answers and action to come though I promise! As always, reviews fuel the process ;)


	4. Cadair Seelie

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

Chapter Four: Cadair Seelie

Sarah lurched to her knees and tried desperately not to vomit. As she knelt there, breathing carefully, trying not to move too much, a gentle breeze drifted through the wide opened windows lining the broad sweeping hall. It floated over her like a soothing hand across her forehead, tinkling bells in the vaulted ceiling above her.

As she waited for her equilibrium to come back to her, a soft thunder of whispering broke out around her. Cautiously, Sarah looked up, glancing around for the Goblin King. She saw him standing aloof a few feet away from her.

"Miss, may I help you?"

A young woman dressed in simple clothing offered a hand to Sarah. Her hair was covered by a delicately patterned handkerchief. Her plain features looked openly at Sarah, expressing passive interest. Sarah guessed that, compared to the finery of the figures standing at the edge of her line of sight, the girl must be some sort of servant.

She stood shakily, "It's fine, just got a little dizzy."

The girl nodded and disappeared back into the fringes of the room.

Sarah went to Jareth and grabbed him by the elbow, "Where are we?"

Askance, "The Cadair Seelie."

"What is that? And _why_ are we here exactly."

"Yes Jareth, what _are_ you doing here?"

Sarah glanced in the direction of the sharp, stinging voice raised above the murmur of the crowd. Her gaze fell on a slender figure, taller than those immediately around her, dressed in a shimmer of blue silk. The woman glided past knots of people, her face a smooth, flawless visage framed by a complicated plait of honey golden braids and delicately pointed ears.

The Goblin King glared coldly at the woman but did not reply. His silence surprised Sarah; she was so used to the man of quick retorts and biting comebacks.

"Come, come, introduce us to this smashing young..." she flicked a penetrating look at Sarah and in that moment the young woman felt her entire existence weighted and measured, "human."

He remained impassive.

Taking the initiative, Sarah addressed the woman herself, "I'm Sarah Williams."

"Sarah Williams, I see, and do you not know what you're doing here? After all, it's not everyday one makes so bold as to bring a human to these halls."

Sarah darted a glance back at Jareth, "I'm looking for my friend, Imogen."

"And you think she's here?" the woman arched a slender eyebrow at her.

"I'm not really sure. He said I might find answers here," as she looked around the room, Sarah saw that its inhabitants had already returned to their previous conversations, forgetting her entire existence for the most part.

"Poor Jareth, reduced to doing favors for little mortal girls," the woman mocked him snidely but with a wink to Sarah. The Goblin King's expression turned even colder and the woman seemed to lose interest when she could evoke no other reaction. She turned brilliant, unnaturally green eyes on Sarah, looking her over again. A pause and then she smiled slightly and held out a hand, "Walk with me Sarah."

Uncertain, Sarah took the proffered hand and began a low turn around the room away from Jareth. As they strolled, she soon found her arm tucked amicably into the curve of the mysterious woman's elbow. She felt like the childish kid sister being let out to see the grown-ups.

Screwing up her courage, because really, how more bizarre could the day really get? Sarah asked, "Do you mind telling me who you are?"

The woman smiled but did not look over at her, "I am Aislinn du Touth, Lady Queen of the Elves."

Sarah felt goosebumps jump out on her arms; she could practically feel the power crackle in the name.

"Oh."

Aislinn laughed, her cold features melting into a serene amicability, "Yes."

"Do you mind telling me, what is 'Cadair Seelie'?"

"Literally, it means seat of the Seelie. You, my dear, are in the grand Holy Court."

They had walked a hundred feet down the hall when they reached a curtained alcove off the beaten path. A servant appeared, different than the young girl who had offered to help Sarah when she first appeared, more elegant, taller and with a smooth cascade of chestnut hair. She drew back the curtain so Sarah and Aislinn could be seated.

It was dark; in fact, the back wall was a curving bank of windows flung open to let in a breeze. Beneath the windows ran a cushioned bench in plush fabrics, Aislinn led her there and they were seated. The servant let the curtain fall back again to protect their privacy.

"Now, you were saying something about answers to question?"

Sarah snapped her attention back to the elf, her attention awed by the panoramic view below them, "Oh, yeah. My friend, Imogen, something's happened to her. She got caught up in the Wild Hunt or something and I didn't know any other way to get to the Underground."

"So you summoned the Goblin King? What a very strange course of action."

She shrugged, "It seemed, well, not a good idea, but the only available one at the time."

Aislinn laughed, "Yes. How do you know him?"

"I…" Sarah grimaced, "I wished my baby brother away to him once, years ago. But I got him back," she added quickly.

"Hm," the sound was cuttingly prim and noncommittal.

"Anyways, _he_ said he didn't know where to find the Wild Hunt and so I asked him to take me someplace I could find more helpful answers. And I wound up here."

The elf cocked her head, a little squiggle forming between her shapely brows, "And he just," she snapped, "took you."

"Well, no," she admitted, "I wished him to do it."

"Ahh, quite clever," she gave Sarah a considering look, her eyes tinged with respect, "poor man, ruled the power of a simple wish," she smiled and this time a little wickedly.

Curious, "Are you two enemies?"

"Not quite as such," Aislinn straightened, "but close. We had a bit of a disagreement a few years back. _His_ goblins got out and started making a mess of the elven glades, and to top it off he insisted there was nothing he could do about it. You wouldn't believe the clean-up. Now, back to the matter at hand: _you_ want to find your friend."

"That's right."

"And you think she's, what, being hunted?"

"I'm afraid, maybe, yes?"

The elf struck a thoughtful pose, "Well, Jareth wasn't lying when he said he didn't know where the Hunt was. None of us do."

Sarah sighed, exasperated, "Great—"

"Now now, no need to get hasty. He was right to bring you here."

"How so?"

"We, all of us, are gathered here today to make merry and tomorrow to set out for the first checkpoint. You see the Wild Hunt is something of a spectator sport in these parts, quite the yearly rave in fact. There are certain markers along a vague prescribed route the huntsmen take where we troupe and set up camp to partake vicariously of the festivities. Perhaps if you come along, you might be able to find your friend, though I make no guarantees."

"You'd let me come?"

"It's not up to me. You'll have to petition the High King of the Seelie tonight at dinner. But I give you a chair and the opportunity, how does that sound?"

"Why would you do that? I mean, I basically had to twist the Goblin King's arm to get him to take me here."

"Jareth. And I'll do it because you intrigue me, and you seem to put him very much out which I enjoy watching," she turned that wicked little smile on Sarah and winked again.

Sarah felt a little uneasy, after all, didn't they always tell you in the storybooks not to trust the beautiful fairies and elves you meet— "Oh what the hell, I've got nothing else to go on. I accept your offer with thanks."

"Excellent," Aislinn rose with a flourish and whisper of filmy skirts. She took Sarah by the hand, "We'll just have to do something about those clothes." Somehow the servant sensed their departure and parted the curtain and the elf handed Sarah over to the other woman, "Dilys, please find Sarah a room and some clothes. Have her ready for dinner."

The brunette curtsied, "Yes my lady."

Sarah followed the servant down the hall, up a twisting staircase and then lost track of the turns and secondary hall ways.

Back at the flat, the sun broke through the early morning clouds and a gently breeze blew through the abandoned living room. Tom, the tabby neighbor cat from upstairs jumped through the open window, meowing plaintively, and eyed the unprotected fishbowl in a very feline manner.

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the wait, blame school, I certainly do. More to come, be sure and review! It's food for the authorly soul.


	5. Amongst the Fae, Part One

Chapter Five: Amongst the Fae, Part One

Disclaimer: don't own it, don't sue.

A/N: SO SORRY for the months long delay. Finals hit and then summer hit and I got a new job and was going to Comm College and then i got a new job but my current math class is dull + easy enough i pulled this out and started working on it again. yay! the chapters a little rough but there you go. hopefully more to come in the next week. i really am committed to writing more, i promise!

- - -

The fog of a London street wreathed her like a chill, damp cloud. One minute Imogen was looking at Sarah, the next she felt herself blown back off her feet. When her head cleared, the fog was dissipating, a pale yellow sun shone in patches around her and she found herself waste deep inside a crumpled bush--obviously it had broken her unexpected fall. Looking around, all she could see in any direction were trees, moss and underbrush.

"What...?" she scrambled out of the bush, heedless of scrapes and sticking branches. So shocked, her mind couldn't seem to process what had happened, "What? What is--?" She whipped around at the sound of a bugle in the distance. It reminded her--

"Sarah! Sarah?" there was no response and no one else there, nothing from the street, just herself and Sarah's mangled backpack, still tangled around her arm.

The bugle call blared again, muffled by the landscape but definitely closer. The sound put Imogen on edge, like when you sense someone you couldn't see but felt watching you.

Unsure what else to do, not knowing where she was and not really believing something like this could happen in the first place, Imogen straightened Sarah's bag into a more comfortable position. Slinging it across her check and shoulder, she set off into the woods where the daylight seemed a little brighter. Maybe if she headed towards open air, civilization would catch up to her. Sharp branches grabbed at her clothes and whipped her in the face.

Another minute and she heard the dogs baying. The noise caused a little lump of ice to form in her gut, twisting as that strange, primal sound rose to a rolling thunder. It drew nearer, a host shaking the trees as she began to walk cautiously towards it.

Her courage quailed a little and she stopped short. She stood, muscles strained and frozen, staring desperately between the trees, hoping for some sign that it was safe to proceed. Her racing thoughts locked onto that last glimpse of Lindon Street, the phantom horsemen, their dogs and Sarah right in the midst of it all, completely oblivious.

The sun seemed to to be coming up out of the shadows, lighting on the canopy above her head in a soft blue-yellow pastel wash. She could hear horses now, their loud hooves thundering in time with the baying dogs and the loud exhalations of their breaths.

"Psst! What are you doing? Get Down!"

She jerked and turned to the voice.. She searched the underbrush with wide eyes, heart pounding a quick staccato in her chest.

"Hello?"

"_Hello?_ Are you nuts lady?" A dark, raggedy figure leapt out of the brush at her. Grabbing her arm in a surprisingly vise-like grip, the stranger pulled her back down beneath the dense lower tree-top.

"Hey! What are you doi--" his hand clapped down over her mouth, they didn't stop moving. The stranger jerked her back against a hard chest and almost bodily hauled her another dozen yards back into the forest.

Without warning they broke out into a small open space where a thin curtain of light kissed the swift flowing waters of a river. There was hardly enough bank to hold them but she hardly need have worried about that. They hit the water running, the shock stole Imogen's breath. She floundered, arms struggling against the iron grip around her waist and the current.

Before she knew it, they had been transported several dozen yards down stream, well past their starting point. Her impromptu kidnapper paused off the bottom and lugged them both out of the water on the far shore. But they weren't finished yet. Imogen had no time to regain her breath before they were in the forest again, stumbling through the dense briars and slipping uphill in a diagonal direction away from where they'd started. Several minutes later they finally stopped in the shadow of a grove of trees that would have put the Californian red woods she visited once as a child to shame.

Imogen finally took a second to register her heart pounding heavily against her chest. The blood rushed in her ears, almost drowning out the heavy breathing of her companion.

"What the _hell_ are you on?"

Now that she had a second, she registered that her companion was dressed in simple enough clothing, like you might find at a medieval renaissance fair, a lot of leather and rough wool, all of it overly worn and ragged. He bent over gasping a little for breath.

"Excuse me? I just saved you!"

"Saved me? From what? Getting back to civilization?"

"That is _not_ what I'd call civilization," the man growled back, pointing from where they'd come.

Irritated sarcasm dripping from her voice, "Oh really, and what _would_ you call it? Rescue? Salva--"

"Death, perhaps. Horrible terror? Yes that sounds about right."

Imogen opened her mouth to respond but the man held up his hand to stop her.

"Please, no more. I apologize for saving your life, no really, don't thank me," he turned away and started brushing off his clothes, pulling soggy leaves and twigs out of his soaked clothing.

Her mouth, a little shocked by the unexpected outburst. She watched him for a moment, clothes dripping as well. A breeze ruffled the trees, she shivered violently and looked around.

The sun had sunk lower below the tree line. The foliage seemed to soak in all the warmth before it could reach them. The river babbled in the near distance; if anyone had followed, their harried flight, she couldn't hear them now. Darkness encroached the edges of her live of sight.

Imogen wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, she glanced around but already she felt the dense woods closing in, obscuring her sense of direction.

"Shit," she whispered desperately.

The man stripped off his long leather jacket, water running from the spotted material in a cascade, and hung it off a tree branch. He was working at stripping out of his soaked shirt when Imogen cleared her throat nervously and said:

"I think i'd really like to go back now."

"_What?_"

Speaking louder, "I said--"

"No, no, no, I heard you, I just couldn't believe what I was hearing. You want to go back? What on earth for? Did you miss the death and horrible terror? I understand sarcasm might be a little beyond you but I was being perfectly serious."

"But who _are_ you? And what the hell were we running through the woods for?"

"You mean to tell me you don't know what that was? Honestly?" he peered at her in disbelief.

"I don't know where I am, let alone what's going on. Except for the fact that I believe you just kidnapped me."

"No, no, no, we've been over this, I was trying to rescue you."

"From _what_?" Imogen wasn't built for all this run-around. Her nerves felt frayed around the edges, like stripped electrical wire from a hot outlet. A hard, wet, hot knot rose in her throat, choking her. Everything was dissonant and wrong and she shouldn't be here at all.

"From the _Herlathing_," he hissed, face going hard and stressed.

She began to feel a little more desperate, "Are you insane? An escaped mental patient from a Ren Faire asylum?"

"Ren Faire? I don't believe so. I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about but I think I'd know if I--"

"Never mind," Imogen held up her hand in defeat and sat down dejectedly on a log. She buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply to stave off the hot tears she felt in the back of her throat.

"Oh God, why is this happening to me?"

Nonchalantly, "I suppose, for the simple reason that you found yourself in the wrong place next to the wrong person. Or the right person, depending on how you look at it. I'm going to take a leap," sarcasm again, "and say you aren't from around these parts."

"No," she moaned.

"Where then, may I ask?"

"London. And I'd really like to just go back there."

"Hum, well, I'm afraid that there is little I can do. Actually, there's nothing I can do seeing as I am stuck here myself."

"Where is here?"

"I'm not entirely sure. It's the Herlathing, it can take place anywhere. It draws in everyone unfortunate enough to get caught in it's path," he wrung water from his shirt, shaking it before putting it back on.

"My suggestion is that you do as the rest of us do."

Imogen looked up at him finally, chest hurting, "Which is?"

"When you hear the hounds?"

She nodded.

"Run."

TBC


	6. Amongst the Fae, an interlude

A/N: WHAT IS THIS EVEN? I was looking through my files for a completely unrelated uni project when I found a notebook dating back to 2009. It contained the first half of this story. I figured since so much of it was already written, I might as well finish it. Like I've stated previously, Labyrinth isn't really my fandom anymore, at all, but this story was a bit of a guilty pleasure for me so WE'LL SEE, there could be more to come. unbeta'd, mistakes are all mine.

R&R!

Disclaimer: not mine, not making a profit.

Chapter Five: Amongst the Fae, Pt 2

The room Dilys lead Sarah to eventually, after a long walk through the central wing of what she could only term a palace, took her breath away. She liked to think that she'd seen her fair share of wondrous things, first during her escapade in the Labyrinth. Even if it had seemed disgustingly filthy and more than a little left in disrepair, still, wondrous structures, amazing alien architecture, if a little rough around the edges. Then, later, she had lived in London and walked through old world streets, cramped by tall Gothic buildings, hemmed in by cobbled streets. It was easily one of the most beautiful cities in western Europe but not even the palace itself could compare to the splendor of what lay before her now.

On the way, in the corridors, they passed beings that moved in groups of twos and threes, people who were obviously very important, followed by attendants and their aide-de-camps. Sarah hardly dared even try to put names to some of them, though she tentatively labeled a few "faeries" or "elves" - depending on their height and coloring - and at one memorable moment on their walk, saw what she could only see fit to call a gnome - complete with pointy red had and all of eighteen inches high. They all ignored her, too important to take any sort of notice of a lonely human.

Dilys gestured to the amenities of the room, pointing out a bed and wardrobe, a little refresher hidden behind a privacy screen and featuring an empty tub, a washstand and basin, and a squat toilet device. Afterwards, the maiden eyes Sarah critically, taking her in from frumpy ponytail and cardigan to smudges ratty converse.

"I'll take a look through the attire we brought with us and see if I can find something suitable for you to wear to dinner tonight. If her ladyship wishes, a seamstress may be summoned tomorrow to fashion a simple wardrobe for you before we depart."

Sarah grimaced, her voice taking on an edge of sarcasm, "What, Old Navy clearance rack doesn't cut it in the high Seelie Court?"

The look she got in response practically dripped with ill concealed disdain though Dilys did little more than wrinkle her nose.

Continuing, "Not that you actually know what Old Navy is but," Sarah stopped talking as the look on her guide's face darkened, "right ok, I guess I'll just wash up while you see about those clothes then. Sorry," she muttered and turned away, suddenly ashamed.

"Very well miss. I will return shortly," Dilys nodded curtly and left.

Sarah's head spun a little as she took in the room: the luxurious king sized bed draped in silk and velvet, curtained off from the world by rich tapestry bed hangings. The windows opened out onto a small personal balcony but the encroaching night made it difficult for her to see anything past the colored glass panes of the french doors.

"Christ, who puts stained glass in a spare bedroom?" she pulled the curtains back closed and poked her head into the empty wardrobe, under the bed where not even magical dust bunnies seemed brave enough to gather, and finally made her way into the bathroom. She found hot and cold running water issue forth from the sink stand as well as from shiny copper pipes attached to the claw-foot tub. Had to be magic.

Twenty minutes later, Sarah emerged from the decadent bathroom, a thick cloud of steam followed her out into the bedroom. Dilys had returned sometime in the last few minutes, her arms full of boxes that she dumped onto the bed without ceremony. Another serving girl hovered in the doorway, equally burdened.

"Ah good, I hope you enjoyed your bath, "Dilys seemed marginally more at ease. She gestured for the serving girl to set down her boxed and began opening them, pulling brightly colored articles of silk and lace out with deft fingers.

"Yeah, it was very amazing," Sarah cleared her throat awkwardly, "is this really all for me?"

"Yes, just a few things we pack for emergencies but they should do you for a few days. Here," she held up a sleek blue frock in a gauzy fabric, "I think this will suit tonight's dinner. I am not sure of the style, her ladyship is often considered a bit of a sartorial rebel but I do not believe it completely disagrees with your bone structure, yes?" she attempted a small smile, obviously an olive branch.

Sarah chose to accept it, "This is a lot more than anything I could have imagined," she offered a strained smile in return, "everything seems so different from my last time in the Underground."

Dilys sniffed eloquently, "The Goblin kingdom is hardly what I would consider proof to base an entire opinion of Underground upon, if you understand my meaning."

"I'm beginning to see that, yeah," Sarah's laugh was muffled by the fabric of the dress as it slid over her head. She jerked her arms through the long sleeves and studied her reflection in an oval mirror hanging against one wall while the other woman tightened up the lacing in the back.

"Her ladyship has arranged a seat for you at the high table."

"Sounds fancy," Sarah peeled her dusty jeans off and laid them over the back of the lone settee in the room.

The younger attendant who had returned to the room with Dilys set up a tiny chest of drawers on the vanity table. It was wider and deeper than it was tall, made from a polished chestnut colored wood and decorated with intricate and colorful trellis patterns. It reminded her of something like that most delicate decoupage she could imagine.

"I'm not sure 'fancy' is the correct word but you may consider it an honor yes. Your presence at these proceedings is unprecedented," Dylis began opening drawers, sorting out a pair of stockings, slippers, and ribbons. She handed over the gauzy knickers. Once Sarah had struggled into them, she gestured for the girl to be seated and began brushing her thick, dark hair.

"Strictly speaking, you are the guest of the Goblin King which brings with it it's own degree of esteem, and secondly, you are now the honorary guest of the Grand Duchess of Faerie. This position does lend you some standing amongst the gentry. It is a particularly unique combination of recommendations to your character. And that is, of course, after one takes into account your own- how shall I say, celebrity status?"

The young maid, arms held stiff and draped in a hundred ribbons of varying shades of blue, snorted indelicately. Dylis cast her a sharp look, selected three ribbons and dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. Sarah watched in curiosity as the other woman hurried to pack away the chest and scuttle back to the door.

"If that will be all, ma'am?"

"You're dismissed." Dylis didn't cast her a glance, eyes focused on where her deft hands wove Sarah's hair back and up into a complicated style.

"What do you mean, 'my celebrity'?"

Dylis twisted the side sections of hair into a half dozen tiny braids with surprising speed and threaded them back with ribbon, the entire thing impossibly tight and intricate, almost painful. Satisfied she pulled Sarah up by her shoulders and ran firm hands across her seams, straightening until she looked almost pleased by the finished product and stepped back.

Sarah eyed her closely in the mirror, too shocked by her own bizarre appearance to dwell on it. Deep inside, she felt like if she thought too long about anything that was happening to her, she might simply break down laughing hysterically and never stop. It was much safer, for her own sanity, to focus on everyone else.

"Well, you are Sarah," Dylis said, finally, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Sarah frowned and shrugged off the other woman's hands, "Yeah? So what?"

Dylis's lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile, the sharp points of her teeth briefly outlined against her rosebud mouth, "_The Sarah,_ the girl who beat the Goblin King."

"What? You can't mean no one else ever..."

"You should realize, people tend to remember conquerors, yes?"

TBC


End file.
